


Things Change, My Dear

by teacuptribbles



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adoption, Children, Domestic, F/F, Jadzia never died, M/M, Married Life, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuptribbles/pseuds/teacuptribbles
Summary: The eldest daughter of Julian Bashir and Elim Garak reflects on growing up in a rebuilding society with two loving but complicated parents.





	1. Lost (Age Seven)

**Author's Note:**

> General rating as there are no explicit scenes or themes; however be aware there will be swearing and angsty moments. 
> 
> I have most of this written, so updates should be quick. My goal is once a week but life may get in the way.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

_“Hair is grey and the fires are burning_

_So many dreams on the shelf_

_You say I wanted you to be proud_

_I always wanted that myself._

 

_When you gonna make up your mind?_

_When you gonna love you as much as I do?_

_When you gonna make up your mind,_

_'Cause things are gonna change so fast_

_All the white horses have gone ahead_

_I tell you that I'll always want you near_

_You say that ‘things change, my dear.’”—Winter, Tori Amos_

 

**Chapter One: Lost (Age Seven)**

 

Zhaya was three when she began to lose her vision, and five when the Fire started.

When she thought about the Fire, she wasn’t sure what memories were hers and what belonged to the collective consciousness.  She may have not actually seen the bombs drop, but she did remember the day her mother didn’t come home.

_You’re small, mitka*.When you hear the Jem’Hadar coming, run into the crawlspace, and breathe quietly._

Her mother knew hiding.Zhaya’s grandmother had been Bajoran, and her mother had come about in the usual way of Cardassian-Bajoran reproduction: nonconsensual and unwanted.As a result she had only managed to survive to adulthood by being savvy, and unseen.

Advice was often all that her mother could afford to give her, and it had saved her.Zhaya stayed in that crawlspace, willing her rumbling belly to stay quiet, until Federation aid workers swept the rubbled homes for survivors.One of them had sugared _jumja_ , and clutching it in her little hands made her happier than anything she had ever known.

She went to an orphanage with hundreds of other malnourished, family-less Cardassians.Her vision did not get corrected in that time.Her housemates had missing feet, hands, noses, eyes.Her planet was missing its whole heart.Federation aid could only spread so far.

***

At age seven, after a particularly dull hot afternoon of grammar lessons and _regova_ bone broth,Zhaya decided anything had to be better and wandered from the orphanage grounds. 

She quickly regretted the decision, though she was too proud to admit it and turn back.The dust was thicker than she remembered—she could not name the last time she had been outside—and it caked along her eyelashes and in her nostrils.Her inner eyelid could not provide adequate protection and soon the grains clogged that membrane too.All she could see was a wall of red, with no blurry edges or shadows to orient her.

Knowing she had truly screwed up, she turned around and walked back, hoping she would eventually hit the broken concrete wall marking the orphanage’s property.She walked for what felt like hours when she had only left the orphanage thirty minutes before.She swallowed her tears and sat down, willing the dust storm to let up and give her a fighting chance.

She should have been scared when the skimmer pulled up next to her.She knew better than to climb into a stranger’s vehicle.That did not stop her from jumping in, gasping in relief as she did so.

“What are you doing out here without a mask?”

The voice was strange.Somehow deep and soft, with notes that bounced up and down wildly.The sentence had an odd construction.Whoever this was, he could not be a native speaker of Kardasi.  

Before she could reply, she sneezed a giant, snotty string of red into her sleeve, to which the man handed her a cloth.“You poor girl.Are you from one of the orphanages?”

One of the orphanages.It was easy to forget that hers was not the only one.Cardassia City had more orphanages than it had about anything else anymore.

She nodded as she wiped her face and sneezed some more, embarrassed at her foolhardiness. 

There was a pause, then the whir of the skimmer as it started back up.“You can use my sonic shower.It doesn’t work all that well, but it’ll get most of the dust off.”

Until her eyes could clear away the film, her vision was even worse than usual.All she could see of the man was that he was brown and lacked the bumps and slopes that marked a Cardassian. 

“Are you with the Federation?,” she managed to ask between sneezes and coughs.

“You could say that.”He sounded kind.

***

The house was as ramshackle as any on Cardassia, but it was the largest and most inviting Zhaya had seen.Art had been hung on the adobe walls with attention and care, and the bathroom had an honest to State working shower. 

The man apologized over and over again for the shower’s ineffectiveness, but once she used it, she had no clue what he was talking about.It was a massive improvement over dusting herself off with a rag, which had been the standard of bathing at the orphanage.Soon the red dust fell from her scales and she was a normal shade of gray again.

When she was done she found that her clothes had been dusted off.She slipped them on and carefully entered the main room.She was drawn to the paintings.She had not seen any in a long time. 

The stranger, who called himself Julian, must have noticed how close Zhaya placed herself in front of the pieces.“Do you have contacts or glasses back at the orphanage?”

She shook her head.

“I could correct your vision, if you’d like.I’m a doctor.” His tone was so gentle, so noticeably un-Cardassian. “Of course, it probably won’t be as good as if a Cardassian eye doctor had done it, but it should do for a while.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted corrected vision, or that she trusted all this human was offering.He didn’t miss her silent response.“Ah.I’m pushing too hard.I often do that.A Terran failing, I’m afraid.”

He may have been a giant blur to her, but she could hear the smile in his voice.She couldn’t help but give him a little one in return. 

“Are you hungry?I have fresh _rokassa_ fruit,” he said, pridefully.

“Not replicated?,” she asked as she rose a skeptical brow ridge. 

“Our garden has been good to us.”

The image of orange juice running between her fingers as she bit into the sweet, tangy flesh of the _rokassa_ was too enticing to refuse.She was salivating already.“If you wouldn’t mind—"

“Not at all.”

The dust storm had abated, allowing them to use the table outside.Julian brushed off the furniture before plucking two _rokassa_ fruits from the tree.Zhaya watched the green-blue shape before her shake as he did so. 

She was so lost in the fruit’s sweetness that she did not see the furry _lemmik*_ sneak its way under the table.She gave a small yelp when it brushed her leg.

Julian laughed softly.  “That’s Mr. Darcy.He’s hoping for a bite of your fruit, but he’ll accept a pet as well.” 

The only _lemmiks_ she had encountered before were balding, boney wild ones.When she reached down, she was surprised to feel a full soft coat underneath her fingertips.The creature purred, and her heart leapt.

She asked Julian to fix her eyes.

With Mr. Darcy on their heels, they returned inside, where Julian had her sit in a chair with another _rokassa_ fruit.She licked her fingers after each bite to ensure the juice did not drip. 

When he returned, he was brandishing two needled syringes.No survivor of the Fire was unexposed to needles, and she had never been squeamish, but still the sight worried her. 

Julian smiled reassuringly.“The first one is an anesthetic.It will numb you while this, Retinax, is in your system.Retinax is what will correct your vision.Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

Zhaya nodded, and he rolled up her sleeve to expose her deltoid.“Okay, Zhaya, here we go.Your only concern is finishing that fruit.”

She knew what to anticipate when she felt the cool antiseptic on her scales.A pinch, they always said. 

And so there was a pinch, and a sensation that was somehow both warm and cooling.Another pinch came.She could taste this one on the back of her tongue.

“If you close your eyes for a while it will help with the sick feeling.”

The walls seemed to lift from the ground and float around her head.White spots danced in front of her eyes.She felt herself go light as Julian picked her up and placed her on a pile of cushions in the living area. 

When she felt her back supported by the ground, she reached out for Julian’s arm. 

“It’s alright.I’m right here.Take deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth.There you go.That’s it.”

With each breath she felt more solid and the walls returned from above.When she braved opening her eyes, she immediately shut them in shock.The world was clear.Clear.

She opened her eyes again, more gingerly this time.The room was sharp lines and crisp colors. 

And there was Julian.He was definitely human, with the pink tinge to his skin and hair on his arms.Despite his alien appearance he was handsome.He was all height and angles, and his smile was warm.

“What do you see?”

“You.” 

“Strange looking, aren’t I?”  His smile was wide and bright.

She laughed.The pet _lemmik_ gave a purr as he approached from the kitchen.She had been missing so many fine details.  Their long but near imperceptibly thin whiskers, and their enormous upright ears.  Mr. Darcy twitched his nose and sat in her lap.  Though Julian had given her shelter and snacks and sight, winning the animal's approval was the best thing that had happened to her that day.She reached her arms around him and scooped him into her chest.His whiskers tickled her face.

Julian showed her games Mr. Darcy liked to play.  Together they twirled a sock above the _lemmik_ 's head, or tossed a ball back and forth for him to chase.  They continued to do so even as the massive golden sun began to set.  

Distracted, they did not hear the front door open.  Zhaya was not aware another person was in the room until Mr. Darcy abandoned their game of fetch to sniff his boots.

She gasped in surprise.  The man was Cardassian and, though he wore a bright yellow tunic with matching pants, his shoulders were squared in the posture of an old Cardassian.  A Cardassian from before.  The kind who would beat or kill her for having nose ridges.  

“ _Julian Subatoi Bashir_ ,” the man hissed in a tone that shot cold fear through Zhaya’s belly. 

Julian, however, seemed utterly unfazed.He kept speaking as though he hadn’t noticed the threat at all.“I’m going to bring her back, obviously.She just looked like she could use a meal and shower.”

"It's 8 PM!  How long has she been gone?  What has gotten into you?  I swear your savior complex..."

But Julian just shrugged.  The Cardassian man shook his head in annoyance before bending down to introduce himself.  "I'm sorry for losing my temper.  None of this is directed at you.  I'm happy to meet you, Miss...?"

She gathered herself.  "Zhaya Onak."

"Zhaya Onak."  She could see the man search his memory for the family name.  "What a lovely name.  I'm Garak."

 _Garak._ It was familiar, the way it sounded complete without a first name.  However, when she tried to call to mind the crest or accomplishments of the Garak family, she could not.  

Garak had a convincing smile, and he told her there was a stash of salted _regova_ skin in the cooler she could help herself to.  She did not need to be told twice.  

She watched the two men argue in the front room, trying to keep their tones hushed so she couldn’t hear.However, she had perfected the childhood art of pretending not to notice while noticing everything.

Julian went to plant a kiss on the other man’s cheek, only to be teasingly rebuked.She observed them with amplified interest, her eyes wide with the realization that she was watching loveplay in addition to a genuine disagreement.She had been removed from couples for so long she had almost forgotten what this looked like.

Julian’s large, green-brown eyes caught hers and she turned away in embarassment.She heard him sigh.“Alright, Zhaya, I suppose we should be on our way.”

He walked to her and took her hand in his.  His skin was so unusually warm. 

She stared at the floor.  Back to the orphanage.  She had almost forgotten where she had come from.  

“No.”

She rose her head, her expression just as confused as Julian’s as they looked at Garak.“No?,” Julian asked tentatively.

Garak sighed, but smiled.  “Of course she’s not going back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mitka: meaning "flower," found in tinsnip's English-Kardasi dictionary.
> 
> *lemmik: adopted from AlphaCygni's amazing Garashir fic "Proof."


	2. Found (Age Seven)

** Chapter Two: Found (Age Seven) **

 

The paperwork was quick and rudimentary.Orphanages were in no place to turn down potential homes for their many in need.In just the span of an hour and with her bewildered approval, Zhaya had two parents again. 

“What would you like to do for your last name?,” Julian had asked her in the orphanage's makeshift waiting room.Her surname was Onak, and though her family had never held any great standing, she wanted to honor them just the same.Still, it would be unbecoming of a young Cardassian to reject the hallmark of her adoption.She became Zhaya Onak Bashir, after Garak had denied using his name with such fervor she wondered if he was having doubts about this arrangement.

A day before she was sharing a bed with two other children.  Now the door opened to a house.  Her house.  Her food.  Her fathers.

Despite their interspecies differences, Zhaya found herself more attached to Julian each day.He fell into the role of her father with ease.He relished teaching her things and tending to her health while never turning down the opportunity to play.He chased and tickled and pretended to lose at _kotra_.She came to trust him so much she allowed the soothing sound of his accent, the accent she was already noticing less and less, to send her off to sleep as he read.

A month into her adoption, she asked the computer what British Terrans called their fathers.  She thought _Da_ was simple enough for her to pronounce fairly correctly.When she called Julian that for the first time, hesitantly as though he might reject it, he looked as though she could break him, and pulled her in for the tightest embrace she had ever known.

He cried into her dark hair.  "How do you know that word?"

"I asked the computer."

Julian chuckled, still holding her.  "I am so fortunate, you know that?"

Despite her best efforts, she could not forge the same connection with Garak.Though he was good and attentive and knew how to braid her hair in many pretty, intricate patterns, he lacked Julian’s openness and childlike wonder.He was proper, his shoulders still stiff in that old militaristic way, and whenever they were alone together there seemed to be a wall around him.At times that wall was so high Zhaya had to wonder, again, if he had wanted her at all.

Julian was a doctor and a gifted one at that.  She experienced it firsthand, and witnessed it over and over.  With no childcare available, Zhaya accompanied him on house calls.  She sat in strange corners as he listened to pregnant women's bellies and lanced infectious lesions.  Without fail the patients would comment on her good behavior, and Julian would beam at her.  _Do you want to be a doctor like him_ they would ask, and she would shake her head while staring at whatever vomit or necrotic tissue graced the waste basket.  She wondered how Da did this with a smile on his face.

Garak, however, often came home late from a job involving laws and the government that she barely understood.  The first thing he did after greeting his family was pour himself a glass of _kanar_ and head out to the garden in the dying light.   One evening Zhaya decided to follow him out there.  He was kneeling by what she would come to learn were gramilian sand pea stalks.  She copied his posture and looked at him cautiously, somewhat expecting him to shoo her away.

Instead, he smiled at her, and began naming off the plants he had been tending to for the past two years.  Two years ago, all of this, the garden, the house, was dirt and rubble, he said, both pride and sadness in his voice.

As Garak taught her the subtleties of gardening, her attention wandered despite herself.  This was not to be her passion.  His words began to feel far away.    

The plants themselves may have held little interest for her, but she liked picking up bugs and poking sticks in the mud created by the watering can. 

Garak tsked lightly.  “ _Lis’sea*_ , you will get your clothes dirty.”

He handmade her clothes, which she loved very much.  She did not want to get them covered in mud, but she did not want to stop playing in the mud either.   

Her solution was to remove them entirely and place them, folded, on the outdoor table.  This was not the most appropriate behavior for a Cardassian, but it _was_ rather hot, and Julian went in the nude, or close to it, around the house all the time, so how unbecoming could it be?

When Garak saw her, she saw a flash of shock in his blue eyes and thought for sure she was about to be chastised.Instead, he let out a sincere, breathy chuckle.  “I see Da has been corrupting you with his barbaric human ways.”

There was nothing but love in his voice.Zhaya gave him a smile, feeling reassured by him and the warmth of the air against her scales.

She watched as he put on long orange gloves in a manner that was almost dainty.He then used his gloved hands to pick up large metal shears from the ground.  Zhaya would hold on to that image, Garak standing with a steel weapon in his brightly clothed hands, for a long time.

He opened the blades around a graying _rokassa_ branch.With one quick closing motion, the branch fell from the tree with ease.He repeated this over and over, a small pile of graying, flaking branches forming at his feet.

Her interest returned.  She did not understand why he was hacking away at something he just talked about so lovingly.

“Don’t you want the tree to grow bigger?,” she asked.

Garak nodded, not breaking the rhythm of his work.“I’m helping the tree grow bigger.The dying parts take energy away from the healthy parts.When I take the bad branches away, the tree can focus on growing.Does that make sense?”

As he grew quiet and kept his eyes ahead, Zhaya got the sense that the conversation was over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lis'sea: A Cardassian term of endearment, adopted from AlphaCygni's "Proof"


	3. Lessons (Age Seven)

** Chapter Three: Lessons (Age Seven) **

The sluggishness of the late afternoon made her itch.

It was after lunch, and the lesson was reading.While Zhaya was already an accomplished reader (her fathers had made sure of that), her classmates were still grasping written Federation Standard.She struggled to stay still as the teacher patiently coached the other children through sounding out syllables.

The class sat in a circle, allowing her a good view of the room.There were several Trills, including the teacher, one Andorian, four Vulcans, and one Cardassian who seemed to spend the entirety of his time at school avoiding her eyes. 

_“Only one other Cardassian?," Garak asked, disappointed._

_Julian shrugged.  “That’s what Zhaya's teacher said.   Apparently he was just adopted by Vulcan relief workers.”_

_Garak frowned.“HARF* is having more difficulty recruiting us than I would have thought.”_

_“Are you surprised?  I think it will take a long time for the Cardassians to really trust the Federation.  It took you what, seven years and my 'incessant chatter'?”  Julian gave him a smile._

_Garak’s frown lifted.“You are nothing if not persistent.  You missed your ambassadorial calling.  Are they getting along at least, Zhaya and the boy?”_

_Julian sighed, trying to keep a frown at bay.“He’s absolutely terrified of her.”_

_“I shouldn't be the one taking her to school."  Garak twirled the kanar in his glass, not looking at Julian._

_"Elim, don't talk like that.  This is a new chapter.  People will understand."_

_Garak's mouth tightened.  "My dear, you really don't know Cardassia at all."_

When Zhaya grew tired of counting Miss Lexa’s spots, she read ahead in the book, but after the third time doing so she grew so bored she thought she might die.The walls were too close, the air too hot, her classmates’ voices too slow and cautious—

“May I go to the bathroom?”

Miss Lexa looked up from T'Su's shoulder.  The teacher looked impossibly young, with delicate wispy blonde hair and warm brown eyes.  When Garak first met her, he told Zhaya she reminded him of Julian.  Something about "eternal optimism" that she didn't quite understand.

Miss Lexa nodded.  "Good pronunciation, Zhaya.  And yes, you may."

Zhaya wasn’t sure until she had the pass in hand, but she had no intention of using the bathroom.She just wanted to walk.Even in its mercilessness the sun was better than the overstuffed classroom.  Walking had been the only recreational activity at the orphanage, the only thing that made her feel better.  She took a deep breath and a step forward until she fell into a rhythm that cooled her anxious skin.  Just around the outside of the school building, she told herself.  

The sound of a skimmer broke her calm.She realized that she had forgotten about school altogether.  She vaguely remembered pacing around the school a few times before passing some other HARF offices.  Now she was in the ever repairing streets of Cardassia City, with no way of knowing how long she had been gone other than the slightly dimmed sun.

The parent who stepped out of the skimmer was not the parent she hoped for.Garak rushed to her, boots hitting the ground heavy.He fell to his knees as he gripped her shoulders tightly.Too tightly.

“Zhaya, _kek!*_ What the hell do you think you’re doing?What has gotten into you?”

Her _yad'_  * never panicked.He was high strung, careful, usually cool in his anger.  This outpouring made her uneasy.

She started, unsure of herself.“I…I lost track of time.”

His nails dug into her skin.“You _lost track of time_?What compelled you to wander off in the first place?Don’t you know what could have happened to you?Don’t you know—“

He was going to leave bruises.“ _Yad'_ , you’re hurting me.”

Zhaya would never forget what transpired on Garak’s face.In an instant he went from raging, his eyes blazing blue, to falling apart.His jaw went slack, his eyes soft.

He relaxed on her shoulders, though he did not let them go.His face fell into the crook of her neck, and he began to sob.

He sobbed and sobbed, wetting the dress he had made for her.He sobbed until he could not catch his breath. 

Numb with shock, the only thing Zhaya could do was pat one of his heaving shoulders.His silk crimson tunic looked too much like Cardassian blood against her small gray hand.

Garak stopped suddenly, using a forceful inhale to bring himself back in.He wiped his face with his sleeve and smoothed out his hair.He was her father again, as she knew him, as if the crying had never happened.

"Would you like to go home, darling?"

She nodded and he guided her to the skimmer, a light but steady hand on the back of her neck.

 

***

 

“Now, don't tell Da I showed you this.  He doesn't…approve of this sort of thing.”

Garak punched in an access code, careful to use his body to shield it from Zhaya’s inquiring gaze.

When the door opened, it revealed a shelf full of knives, a piece of drywall pocked with stab marks, a heavy bag and, most scandalously, a phaser. 

She took a step in only to be caught by Garak’s hand.“It is very important that you do not touch anything without my guidance and approval.Do you understand?”

When she nodded in agreement, he first took her to the knives.  "I'm showing you all of this because you need to know how to defend yourself.  We do not live in a safe place, Zhaya.  I wish circumstances were different, but they are as they are.  You have Bajoran blood, and you're my daughter," Garak glanced down to the floor, his voice catching, "and as a result the world is even less safe for you.  Please pay attention." 

Her head was spinning from the reveal of the secret room, but she brought her eyes to meet his seriously.  She knew what _yad'_ said was true.  She had been kicked and spat on already in her young life, and the possibility of something worse was always with her.

He had her hold each variety of knife in his collection, exposing and covering the blades under his close supervision.  Using his own body as a marker, he showed her where to cut an attacker.  He brought her the phaser, the item she was not, _not_ under any circumstance to use without him and was a death sentence if used improperly, and demonstrated how to use the settings. 

"What do you point a phaser at?"

"Only someone you want to hurt."

"And who would you want to hurt?"

"Someone who wants to hurt you."

The last lesson of the day came.  Garak removed thick fabric wraps from a drawer.  He wrapped one around each of her hands, starting with a loop around the thumb—over, across, under—until her knuckles and wrists were covered.

He guided her right hand into a fist.“Thumb across your fingers on the outside, never on the inside.You will break your thumb that way.When you throw a punch, do not stiffen up.Keep your body loose and turn from your hips.”He demonstrated, and the sound of his fist hitting the bag echoed against the walls.

Zhaya followed suit.  With each blow Garak made a minor adjustment, until she was the hitting the bag with gusto.  She felt strong.  Powerful.

Garak clapped.  "Beautiful form, my girl." 

The secret room became their ritual when Julian worked late nights.  Each time it became less about fear.  They would gossip about Zhaya's classmates and their parents, listen to music (often Terran music, which Garak would inevitably describe as "rubbish"), or exercise the stress of the day away.  Garak would occasionally, after being begged, throw knives at fruit and other targets Zhaya had designated.  When she turned eleven he allowed her to try.  She wasn't very good at it and managed to break two lights, which brought them to their knees in laughter.   

This was all under Julian's nose, until a stubborn patient clung to life and sent him home early.  

He pounded on the door.  "I hear you two!  Elim, open this door right now!"

Garak turned to her.  "I'm not going to suffer this alone."

Zhaya laughed and covered her mouth.  When Garak let Julian in, he wasted no time.  "I knew it!  I _knew_ this would happen.  How long has this been going on?  Elim, this is so unbelievably irresponsible!  I begged you to get rid of this garbage!  You're an _ambassador_  now, for god's sake.  You have your own _bloody guards!"_

"And I was shooting phasers when those neonates were still in their fathers," Garak said, winking at Zhaya.  Her cheeks burned.

Julian grew red.  "This room is being packed up this week, do you hear me?  God, I can't believe you.  One of you could have been seriously hurt!..."

He went on for a while.  Garak did eventually put much of the room in storage, though he always kept a small phaser on him.  

Eventually Zhaya lost interest in weapons.  At times when her relationship with _Yad'_   was more tense, she would proclaim him paranoid, and get frustrated over his constant vigilance. 

But there were other times.  Times when she would read a book from Bajor while listening to music from Betazed, all legally, all in a comfortable bed, and think that it wasn't always like this, and for her father it was like this for only a short portion of his life. 

She could allow him a little vigilance then.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *HARF: The Federation rebuilding and relief effort on Cardassia, as imagined in Una McCormack's amazing post-canon Cardassia novels.
> 
> *kek: A Kardasi expletive from AlphaCygni's Proof.
> 
> *yad': Kardasi for "Dad," I believe Andy Robinson himself is to credit for this one.


	4. Interlude (Age Twenty-Three)

**Chapter Four: Interlude (Age Twenty-Three)**

“Oh Zhaya, your hair!”  
 ****

In Garak’s defense, Zhaya had not seen her family in weeks, nor had she called ahead of time.She had not shared photos of herself with her freshly shaved head.There was no way for him to know of the drastic change in her appearance. 

Still, his obviously disapproving shock stung a bit.She brushed it aside and embraced him, dropping her overnight bag to the floor.He pulled her in tightly.

“Are you feeling alright, _mitka_?”

She nodded into his chest.“I just wanted something different.”

What she did not say was that she forgot what it was to sleep.Her final year in UofU’s journalism program was wearing her down.For some reason she could only find inspiration at night, and she was constantly jittery as her occasional Terran coffee habit grew into a full-blown dependency.She only ate concoctions from her dormitory’s notoriously unreliable replicator.Her showers were short and her hair had become a burden, hence the shearing.

What she did not say was that she was borderline miserable and desperately needed actual food and the warmth of a hug.

She felt a palm run along her scalp as Julian joined them.“I shaved mine my third year of medical school.I just couldn’t keep up with it.It looks much better on you, though, love.”

It was no surprise that Julian’s reception was softer.Adaptability was something humans excelled at, whereas Cardassians floundered.And hair, like most everything else in Cardassia, had once been a status symbol.Cardassian hair was not quite like mammalian hair.It was composed of a tougher keratin, not dissimilar to feathers, and one’s health could be appraised by its shine and richness.A shaved head was a sign of sickness and low-birth.This association was so strong that head shaving was a form of punishment by both parents and the military alike.More and more Cardassians were sporting shorter hairstyles, but shaved was still escaping the realm of taboo. 

Garak inspected it with his fingers.“Did you do this yourself?”

She nodded again, not having left his embrace. 

“Let me even it out for you.”

She gave in to his fretting without protest, and soon the three of them were seated in the dining room.Julian placed a warm cup of Tarkalean tea in front of her without being asked, and offered to make her scrambled eggs and toast.

She almost cried at the suggestion.“I would like that.Thank you, Da.”

As he pulled out a spatula and pan, she noticed a distinct quiet in the house, a noticeable absence.“Where’s Naseem?”

“At _her_ house,” Garak replied as he trimmed her nape, his dislike of Naseem’s girlfriend saturating the word.

Julian cracked eggs into the pan.“She’s not that bad, Elim.”

“Not that bad!She’s condescending, impolite, and can’t stop talking to take a breath.”

Zhaya and Julian, both well accustomed to Garak’s drama, looked at one another and smiled.

They sat on either side of her as she ate.She gently deflected questions about her work and social life (what social life?), instead asking Julian about the paper he would soon be submitting.Julian lit up and effused about how this was _it_ , this was the breakthrough of his career, this could help so many people.In the fog of her ailing mind Zhaya had lost track of what exactly “it” was.She was genuinely happy for her father however, his youthful excitement as charming as ever, perhaps even more so as his shaggy hair and stubble were tinged with gray.

Garak had no doubt noticed her tactic, but he was growing lost in Julian’s energy.He asked questions about the paper Zhaya couldn’t quite follow, his blue eyes soft and warm at his husband’s responses.Every now and then Julian would open himself up to a jab with a mispronounced or misplaced Kardasi word, and Garak would leap at the opportunity.Their banter felt comfortable, watching it an old favorite activity.She decided she would stay another night.

She excused herself to her old room for a proper shower.It had been renovated over the years: an efficient heating and cooling system had been added, as had a bathroom.Her parents used it for guests now, yet it was still undeniably hers.They had not painted over her scribbles on the wall, and they had framed and displayed stories she wrote as a child.She read them over each time she came home.They were all stories about finding treasure, in some form or another.A little girl coming upon something beautiful and special among ruins.

A bitter and unwelcome memory from a few years ago entered her mind. 

She had been drunk on adolescent rage after a fight with Garak, the content of which she could not even remember.The sight of his personal padd caught her eye as she paced around the study and, possessed by self-righteousness, she took it in her hands.

Naturally Garak had several layers of security protecting his information, from passcodes to bioscans.Zhaya had one distinct and powerful advantage over him when it came to technology, however: she was much younger.

Entering and disabling the protective programs went fairly smoothly, and soon she had all of her father’s most private material at her fingertips.She wasn’t sure what she was looking for.She just wanted something that would sting.

One of the open windows contained a message.

_Dearest Kelas—_

_I hope the primary care conference on Vulcan is treating you well, despite the atrocious weather.I trust I do not need to remind you to bring back their strange cactus candy for the girls._

_I admit my writing you comes with an ulterior motive.You have fallen into the unenviable role of being my absolver all these years, something that you have, astonishingly, never shied away from.And I find I have yet another confession for you._

_I have extradited so many to Bajor, so many of the vicious and complacent.Yet, as my castellanship draws to a close…I am not on Bajor.I was allowed not just to live on Cardassia, but to serve and lead her during this most crucial of periods.My worst crimes were committed against our own, sure, but I bloodied Bajorans just as well.I propped up the empire.I was the progeny and protege of Enabran Tain._

_So why am I not sitting in a Bajoran prison cell?_

_Kelas, I have thought over and over again about turning myself to them freely.If not for Julian and the girls, I might have._

_Who would it help, truly?I hope that it would relieve me of my guilt and pain, but that is a selfish motive, isn’t it?And would a Bajoran prison—cushy by the Old World standards you know too well—be punishment enough?_

_I know it wouldn’t be.Nothing would be, nothing could be._

_Please counsel me, Kelas.Some nights are utter turmoil.I can’t—I cannot—tell Julian.Julian, my lovely Julian, he is too gentle and alien.He wasn’t there, Kelas.He didn’t know me then.You did._

_Do I deserve absolution?How did I escape a trial?_

_And Zhaya and Naseem…Guls, Kelas, how can they ever know?_

The message ended there, drafted, unsent.Zhaya’s hands were shaking violently as she fought back tears.She turned off the padd, not bothering to clean up the signs of her hacking.

He never mentioned it. 

Zhaya knew she would have to ask one day, who and what he was before.If all of it was true—the letter, the rumors.And she would have to ask herself if it mattered.

As she listened to the sound of her fathers laughing from down the hall, she realized she could not bear for that day to be any day soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support and patience. I'm almost done with the next chapter, so it should be up soon.


	5. Holidays, Part One (Age Seven)

**Chapter Five: Holidays, Part One (Age Seven)**

The five month summer transformed into fall.The northern winds relented, flash floods stopped carving their way through the ground, and fine red dust settled on roads and buildings.The citizens of Cardassia City could breathe raw, unfiltered air.

Traditionally these changes marked the beginning of _Matz’regov,_ the season of the _regova_.Refreshed by the brief deluge of rain, desert plants plumped and produced vibrant flowers, to the delight of many flying insects.As the insects came their predators followed. _Regova_ dominated the wide rust-colored skies as they spun and dove for beetles. 

Before the rise of empire, _Matz’regov_ was celebrated by a harvest.Family and friends would come together to pick fruit and uproot vegetables and grab _regova_ eggs from the nests.When finished, the participants would circle around a basket and place a portion of their earnings inside of it.The basket would be left out on a shrine, a gift to the gods for the rain.

When fascism clawed its way from the chests of angry men to policy, _Matz’regov_ was nearly stamped out entirely.However, people had always loved an excuse to drink and overeat, so the holiday was adopted into the new calendar.The State replaced the basket and gods with donations and military spending. 

Zhaya had never truly celebrated _Matz’regov_.She did not have a large enough family for it.It was a display of fertility and abundance, a demonstration of potential and power.For a small family to host a gathering was to expose their poverty, and thus their lack of contribution to the State.

Garak attempted to explain this all to Julian, who only brushed it off.“The holiday changed before, it can do so again.”

Garak huffed in response.“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because we will be celebrating Christmas in two months.It’s only fair.Zhaya should experience both cultures.”

As was often the case, Garak did not understand this compulsion of Julian’s, so he opted to just indulge it.

The day of the celebration, Zhaya woke to the smell of frying dough.Her stomach led her to the kitchen where Garak was turning _gettim*_ in a pan, his brow ridges furrowed in concentration.

Without turning to look at her, he pointed to the cabinets on his left.“Zhaya, dear, could you grab the embroidered napkins and place them on the table?”

Zhaya and Julian bustled around the kitchen to prepare the table under Garak’s careful direction.Their excitement did not stop them begrudging that they had to wait to take any bites ( _you wanted tradition, Doctor, and it is tradition to wait for the honored guests_ ).

At 1400 sharp there was a knock on the door.Julian rushed to answer it, while Garak seemed to freeze in place.

“Nerys!”

A musical, breathy laugh answered him.“Julian!”

Julian wrapped the woman in a tight embrace.Zhaya felt Garak place his hands on her shoulders, and they watched as in walked the first Bajoran Zhaya had seen in a long time.

“Hello, General Kira.”The discomfort in Garak’s voice was palpable.

“I think,” the Bajoran began with the same discomfort in her voice, “we’re on a given name basis at this point.”She finished her sentiment with a small smile. 

Garak nodded, relaxing.“Agreed.Nerys, this is our daughter, Zhaya.”

Nerys was all fire, with shortly cropped red hair and bright red lips and a lean tough frame.Yet she looked at Zhaya with something like shyness.

Julian nudged her in the arm.“Go on, she’s well beyond biting now.”

Nerys batted him away before bending over with a raised palm.“ _Kiba’avzayn*,_ Zhaya.”

Zhaya met Nerys’ palm with her own.“Nice to meet you.”

At hearing Standard, Nerys broke out into a smile, and what a smile it was.“Do you know any Bajoran?”

She did not.Many Cardassians did, but her mother did not want to add to her outsider status.She shook her head.

Nerys kept her smile.“Jul—your father, he asked me to bring you something.”She pulled a data rod from her shoulder bag.“There are basic Bajoran lessons on here, along with chants and books I read when I was your age.”

Zhaya was always hungry for more books.She accepted the rod gladly.

“How do we feel about having our first drink?,” Garak asked, already opening a _kanar_ bottle. 

Nerys rubbed her palms on her thighs as she glanced around.“I would love that, but...am I early?I thought the time was 1400…”

“No, General.Nerys.You were perfectly and _politely_ prompt.Kelas couldn’t appear at the time I asked if his scales depended on it.”

That earned a laugh from her, and she accepted a glass though she eyed it skeptically.“Is it as vile as I remember?,” she asked Julian.

Julian shifted awkwardly.“We have other—“

“No, no,” Nerys shook her head, “I want to follow the rules.May as well, since I had to learn them.” 

Garak clinked his glass against hers.“Believe it or not, we are standing above our makeshift revolutionary shelter from so long ago.I filled it in with concrete, but doing so was bittersweet.”

Nerys’ face lit up with recognition.“Oh!I thought the neighborhood looked vaguely familiar.I couldn’t be sure, the buildings—“

“Are intact?,” Garak grinned at her.

She nodded and her face grew soft.  “Congratulations on your position, Ambassador.I mean it.” 

Before they could continue there was another knock.Mr. Darcy chirruped in response.This guest did not wait for the door to be answered and opened it himself.

Garak stepped forward.“Ah Kelas, you never fail to prove me right.”

A deep but tender voice answered.“I believe I brought enough _kanar_ to soothe any pain caused by my tardiness.”

“Let’s hope.”

The Cardassian man was tall, very tall, and thin with the softening belly of age.His long near silver hair was braided, and he smiled when he saw Zhaya as if he had always known her.

He lowered a knee to meet her eyes.“Hello, young one.I’m a good friend of your parents.My name is Kelas Parmak, but you can call me Kelas, of course.”

“Of course" was not the right term for that.Not only was she a child and he an elder, but the Parmaks were a solidly middle class family, far above the Onaks.

Then again, she was a Bashir now.

He pulled a little bag of dried, sugared _rokassa_ peel from his pocket.He gave a piece to Mr. Darcy before handing the bag to Zhaya.“Sorry, young one, but he would be quite cross with me if I did not share.”

Garak sighed from behind them.“Really, Kelas, he is fat enough.”

“Normally I would agree,” Julian broke in, “but it _is_ a holiday.”He threw his arms around Kelas and clapped his back jovially.“I’m glad to see you back from the North in one piece.”

“Better than most can say,” Kelas replied with a sad smile.

Julian gave him a knowing nod and squeezed his shoulder.

The exchange between Kelas and Garak was oddly restrained.They smiled widely, warmly, but did not so much as touch palms.Zhaya popped a piece of candied peel into her mouth and followed them to the table.

They sat around the meticulously arranged table according to custom: family on one side, guests on the other.Nerys was seated across from Garak and next to Kelas.She appeared uncomfortable, and jerked noticeably whenever she and Kelas accidentally brushed. 

However, upon learning that Kelas was actively opposed to the Occupation (and after a few swigs of thick _kanar_ ), Nerys relaxed noticeably.Soon the two were trading laughs and splitting steamed buns stuffed with ground _zabu_. Julian joined in but kept his right hand on the back of Garak’s neck, who was being unusually quiet.

That was until Nerys and Kelas began to participate in Garak’s favorite small talk activity: Dukat bashing.The laughs and alcohol flowed more freely then.

Zhaya had read about the tyrant Skrain Dukat in school.She had seen the crumbled remnants of his statue at the Imperial Plaza.It was surreal to hear the adults comment on something as trivial as the length of his neck (“Do you remember? It went on for fucking lightyears!” “Of course I remember.I pictured sticking a knife in it only a million times.”)

“How do you fit in here?,” Nerys asked Kelas as the Dukat fodder slowed.

Garak quickly looked up from his glass.

“Well,” Kelas shrugged, “I was arrested, as was routine in those days, and of course I had to be interrogated.”

Nerys fell silent, the shock clear on her face.She looked to Garak, then back to Kelas.“No.”

Garak sighed.“I’m afraid—“

“Elim never laid a hand on me,” Kelas rushed.

Garak shook his head.“Kelas, I’ve known the General a long time.You do not have to defend me.”

A heavy silence fell on the table.Zhaya was unsure as to what was happening, but she knew to sip her _tojal_ quietly.Chairs creaked as the adults shifted in them. 

Nerys leaned forward, placing her crossed arms on the table.“Wait.So Garak was in charge of extracting information from you, and instead you two had what?A friendly chat over tea?”

Kelas and Garak exchanged glances.Julian’s hand returned to Garak’s neck. 

“No,” Nerys repeated, her eyes wide. 

Kelas nodded.“Until I was sent to a labor camp, and Elim exiled.”

“Garak,” Nerys said softly, a brightness returning to her face.She reached out for his arm.“I always thought you had been exiled for something like selling information or a botched assassination.Not for having an affair with your prisoner.”

An unmistakable look of mischief appeared on Julian’s face.“Don’t be fooled, Nerys.Behind the stately, repressed veneer lies a hopeless romantic.”

Garak pinched Julian’s side.“I think that’s quite enough.Shall we enjoy our _gettim_ and _gelat_ in the living room?”

They sat on the living room rug in a circle surrounding plates of the fried pastry and mugs of _gelat.Kanar_ , of course, had not gone anywhere, and Garak enjoyed his _gelat_ with a dash of the liquor thrown in. 

Zhaya was not clueless as to what had transpired.All living Cardassians had a life before the Fire.Hard lives, dangerous lives.She could picture _Y_ _ad’_ in a black military uniform, she had when she first met him, but she preferred him as he was now.A smiling man in a handmade orange outfit pouring drinks for his friends.

She was forbidden from _kanar._ Garak had advocated for a small sip, saying all Cardassian children were allowed such on holidays and that Federation drinking practices were biased in favor of Western human cultures.Julian shot this down fervently (“It’s still alcohol!”).Prohibited from touching the caffeinated _gelat_ as well, Zhaya ate pastry after pastry until her stomach ached in protest.

“I have to admit, Julian, I would have never guessed.”

Julian looked at Nerys as he lifted his mug.“Guessed what?”

“This!,” Nerys exclaimed, gesturing to the walls around them.“All of it!Settling on Cardassia of all places, a family…”She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.“When I found out about you and Garak, I thought it was just some weird sex thing.”Julian turned a deep red while Kelas let out a barking laugh.Garak pointed to Zhaya, causing Nerys to cover her mouth.“Sorry!I mean that when I first met you, you were so _young_ , just so immature.And you…you’ve grown into a really good man, with a wonderful family.And with Garak.I still can’t believe it.”

“That makes you and everyone else on the station, including myself.”Garak winked at her.Julian rolled his eyes.

The conversation became more difficult for Zhaya to track as her eyelids grew heavy.When Nerys suggested that they see if the subspace reception was working well enough to call someone named Jadzia, Julian looked at Zhaya and stood up.“I don’t think Zhaya can take any more excitement today.”

“I’m not tired,” Zhaya protested, propping up her head with her hand.

“Oh love, we both know that’s not true.”Julian collected her into his arms.His strength still surprised her.All of her life the elders had referred to mammals as weak.

The others lined up to give her their good nights.Garak kissed her on the _chufa._ Nerys raised her palm, “Sweet dreams, _preeya.*_ I would be honored to show you Jalanda City one day.”

Jalanda City, the city her grandmother was ripped from.  Her grandmother had died when her mother was about Zhaya’s age now, an infection she was always told.She was buried in an unmarked grave in the Bajoran section of Cardassia City’s cemetery, a cemetery now long incinerated. 

Zhaya pressed her palm against Nerys’ and delighted in its warmth.

When they pulled away Kelas took her hand in his.Her little hand disappeared in his paw.“I will see you soon, young one.My home is not too far from here, just on Iloja near the University.When you tire of your parents, my door is open.I know how fussy Elim can be.”

She giggled at that, knowing she shouldn’t have.Luckily Da laughed as well.Garak only gave a resigned sigh before kissing her forehead again.

Julian placed her in bed and began uploading the data rod Nerys had given her to his padd.She watched him as he did so, the events of the evening turning in her head.

“Were _Yad’_ and Parmak ever married?”

Julian’s brows lifted in surprise.“No, no they weren’t.Why do you ask?”

“They were in love, right?”

He stared into the padd for a while before uncrossing his legs and leaning forward.This was the posture that told her to be ready for something serious.

“Zhaya, one of the hardest lessons you’ll learn in life is that you can love someone very much, but love isn’t enough.Loving someone takes a lot of work.Life sometimes gets in the way.”

Well, she wasn’t expecting _that_.When two people were in love, they got married and had a bunch of children.That was what the books said.

But she had read plenty of stories about Cardassia that had been wrong.

Julian smiled at seeing her expression change, and cupped her cheek.“ _Yad’_ and Kelas will always love each other, but it’s a different sort of love, different than the one between _Yad’_ and I.And Kelas has a partner now who adores him, and I like them both a great deal. _Yad’_ and Kelas didn’t end up together, but that doesn’t mean their story isn’t happy.”

Zhaya nodded, half-awake, the melodic sound of his voice sending her off as it always did.He started reading her a Bajoran book that began in the jungle, where it was green as far as the eye could see and the trees were so tall they touched the Prophets.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gettim: My idea of a Cardassian doughnut.
> 
> *Kiba'avzayn: a generic Cardassian greeting (http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Card%C4%83sda)
> 
> *preeya: Bajoran for 'loved one' or 'darling,' pulled from the Bajoran wedding chant we hear in DS9.
> 
> Thank you for reading and all your lovely comments!


	6. Holidays, Part Two (Age Seven)

**Chapter Six: Holidays, Part Two (Age Seven)**

 

“So he breaks into peoples’ houses in the middle of the night?”

“No!Well, yes.Kind of.But he does it to leave presents.”

“Why not just give them to the children?”

“It’s more fun to wake up to presents.”

“And he does this for _every_ house on Terra in one night?”

“For good boys and girls.”

“He does this by himself?”

“His reindeer help.”

“His flying deer.”

“Yes.” 

Zhaya furrowed her brow ridges and shook her head.Julian laughed and pulled her toward him.“Alright, I got to you too late.That hard Cardassian skepticism has sunken in.I’ll tell _Yad’_ tonight, he’ll be very proud.”

“Why do so many Terrans tell their children that lie?”

“Lie is a bit harsh.It’s a myth.It has been told for a long time.”

“So that makes a lie okay?”

Julian winced before relaxing into a smile.“Y’know, I never thought of it that way before.Maybe Santa Claus does put forth a moral quandary.”

The presents exchanged on Christmas, he conceded, were actually purchased, wrapped, and placed under a tree by the parents. 

“…for Jesus?,” Zhaya added, trying to arrange the pieces into a whole.

“Erm, kind of.A lot of people used to celebrate it that way, and some still do.It has come away from that to a more general meaning, though.About love and gratitude and sharing and all that.”

“Do you believe in Jesus?”, she asked.

Julian exhaled through pursed lips.“You’re really beating me over the head with the questions tonight, my darling.What have we done to you?”

Zhaya was not going to be dissuaded.Julian had roped her in with talk of presents, and now she was so confused and frustrated her face ran hot.She was going to make sense of this holiday, and its promise of gifts, if it killed her.

“The situation for me is…complicated.” 

She wanted to burst into tears at that.Everything about this stupid day was complicated.

To her immense relief, Julian continued.“I told you I grew up in London, England.But I am not English by blood.It feels strange to say, because I _am_ English, as English as bangers and mash.But my ancestors were from a place called Pakistan…”

Santa Claus.Reindeer.A magical man named Jesus Christ.Now England and Pakistan were somehow involved.

He stared off for a while.“I told you about the great things, but England did some horrible things too.It did a lot of horrible things for a long time.England thought Terra belonged to it and conquered many places, Pakistan included.So many, many years ago, my ancestors decided to go to England rather than be subjected to slavery in their homeland.”

Though Zhaya had only seen a handful of pictures of her grandmother, the image of her flashed clear and detailed in her mind now, cradling a Cardassian baby against a wall in Coranum.

“We were Muslim, in the most cursory way, my parents and I.I’m pretty much an unabashed heathen now.”

Zhaya didn’t have it in her to ask what that meant.Julian was in a place to himself now, his eyes soft and contemplative, and she was content to watch him.

“I celebrate Christmas not because I believe in Jesus, or Santa.I like the idea of being thankful for people and giving them something they wouldn’t get for themselves.”He pulled her in again, smoothing her hair with his hand.“And that’s all you have to worry about, alright?Forget the rest.”

That she could understand.

***

The station was too bright, too cold, and stank high up to Hebitian heaven.

Zhaya had grown used to Julian’s odor, but he was only one mammalian humanoid, and DS9 had hundreds of them in various states of wash.

The scent was so acrid that Zhaya took a step back with the first puff of air off the docking bay.

Garak chuckled and gave her a reassuring pat on the head.“Darling, when I first arrived, I did the exact same thing.”

Julian glanced around, a frown appearing on his face.“I don’t understand.Jadzia said she would be here at 1500.She does have a tendency to be late, but…”

As if on cue, a willowy figure in a garish red and white fur costume jumped from behind a pillar.“Ho ho ho!”

She threw her arms around Julian, who grinned widely at the sight of her.“You do remember you’re a Trill?”

She sighed and moved on to wrap an arm around Garak.“Of course, but Christmas is _so_ much more fun than a day of fasting and introspection.”

The figure lowered herself to be eye level with Zhaya.“And you must be Zhaya.I’m Jadzia Dax, and I have been dying to meet you.You have the loveliest little nose.”She gave Zhaya her palm, and Zhaya pressed her now impossibly tiny palm against hers.

It was strange to be complimented on lovely features by Jadzia, who was the prettiest thing Zhaya had ever seen.

“And your kameez* is just gorgeous.Your father’s work, of course.”She lifted a dark, beautifully crafted brow. 

“She picks the fabric and cut.I just provide the labor,” Garak beamed.

A mischievous look graced Jadzia’s face.“I have something for my favorite Cardassians.”

Slipping a hand into the pocket of her coat, she pulled out a golden box donned with a glittery red bow.

Garak’s face adopted a similar mischievous glow.“Delavian chocolate?Oh Miss Dax, you don’t know how long its been.”

The Trill’s long fingers undid the bow and presented the now open box to Zhaya.The station lights glinted enticingly off the smooth ebony candies in their varied shapes and designs.Jadzia pointed to a circular one flecked with white crystals.“Salted.That’s the best one.”

Zhaya popped it into her mouth.It was sweet, salty, creamy, crunchy—the sensations were so wonderful and overpowering she dove in for another.Garak followed her with similar gusto. 

“Alright you two, we have dinner plans tonight. _Thank_ _you_ , Jadzia,” Julian said, chiding her ever so slightly.

“This one,” Garak gestured to Julian with a nod of his head, “is all about the dairy treats.An unfortunate result of his upbringing, I’m afraid.”

Jadzia laughed and hooked her arm with Julian's.Julian offered his free arm to Garak.

Together they walked into the station, Zhaya’s hand in Jadzia’s, her new favorite person.

They stopped by a store front with holos of various humanoid feet in the window.

Garak shook his head.“How does the phrase go?‘How the mighty have fallen?’”

Julian smiled.“I suppose that’s applicable here.How did they ever get Captain Sisko to approve this?”

Jadzia shrugged in response.  “Demand was high for a masseuse on the station, and they don’t _technically_ do anything against code.”

“They just haven’t been caught yet,” Garak responded, “because Odo isn’t here.”

A sad silence fell over them, though Zhaya wasn’t sure why.She watched the green and pink lighted sign twinkle.It read _Syba’s Massage_.

After a while Garak pointed to the glass.“This is where my shop used to be, _mitka_.When I made clothes for a living.”

She tried to picture him hustling amongst racks of clothes and mannequins, and it was somehow believable and unfathomable at the same time.

In addition to the other egregious sensory stimulation, the station was noisy.Surrounding them were Bajoran prayer chants, the stringing of a Vulcan harp, the booming of a Klingon opera, and upbeat caroling in Standard.

Garak frowned as they meandered.“I always hated working this time of year.The money was good, but at what cost?The cost of my sanity?Those Standard carols are so sweet they turn the stomach.And so many humans seem to lose their minds from stress.They claim it is a joyous season, yet they burst into stores with crazed eyes and impossible demands.” 

“That’s humans for you.The most complicated creatures in the universe.Don’t you think so, Zhaya?”Jadzia’s eyes were playful and bright. 

“Hey, quit picking on humans.  In case you haven't noticed, I'm quite outnumbered.”Julian poked Jadzia in the side.

“Oh guls, this is getting started quite early.You two are already tiring me,” Garak sighed exaggeratedly.Julian grinned and hugged him to his side.

They entered a dimly lit bar with a Ferengi manning the counter.

“Slow business, eh Quark?,” Garak chimed.

The Ferengi turned around quickly.“Hardly.Come tonight and tomorrow this place will be full of brokenhearted hu-mans who can’t go home for the holidays.Sorrow always brings in latinum for a drinking establishment.And _hello_ to you, too.”

Garak chuckled.“I think I may have actually missed you, Quark.”

The Ferengi waved his hand with dismissal.“Doctor Bashir, one of my best customers!How have you been?”

Julian shook his hand.“Busy.Speaking of, Quark, this is our daughter Zhaya.Zhaya, this is an old friend of ours, Quark.”

Zhaya searched her memory for a Ferenginar greeting.Failing to find one, she settled on Standard.“Nice to meet you, Quark.”

Quark appeared stunned.“Likewise, Zhaya.”He looked at her parents.“Congratulations you two.And to think I always thought your relationship was just a sex thing.”

Jadzia leaned on the bar.“I know, right?”

Zhaya suddenly recalled Nerys’ comment on  _Matz'regov_.“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

She saw Julian shake his head, which was Da code for _not now_.

Garak was horrified.“Quark, a drink please.That is your job, is it not?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been saving a vintage _kanar_ just for your return.From the Terok Nor days.”

“Did the Klingon brigade clean out your bloodwine?,” Jadzia asked, her eyes peering over the counter. 

“I think I still have a bottle or two.And for you, Doctor?”

Julian’s face was scrunched in disgust.“Just a gin and tonic for me.”

It was Jadzia who looked disgusted now.“Ick.I thought a few years on Cardassia would have refined your palette.”

“One would think,” Garak concurred, sniffing the _kanar_ Quark had just handed him.

“And for the little one,” Quark gestured to Zhaya, “I’m thinking something festive.I remember your fathers enjoying this.”He turned around to grab various bottles and press on a loud, steaming machine.When he returned, he handed Jadzia a goblet, Julian a glass, and Zhaya a mug.Inside was a warm brown liquid with white cubes dotting its surface. 

“Hot cocoa,” Quark clarified, though it still meant nothing to her.

Julian pointed to the contents.“It’s a chocolate drink.The stuff on top is marshmallows.  They’re a sort of soft candy.” 

From the moment the drink hit her lips, Zhaya was in love.It warmed her from the inside out, protecting her from the frigid air of the station that she had inadequately prepared for (she had stubbornly refused a sweater with each of Garak’s insistences).She made a mental note to fill her bag up with as much chocolate as possible before returning home.

They said their goodbyes to Quark as the bar did indeed start to fill with melancholy patrons.Jadzia dropped them at their quarters, kissing each of them on the cheek.Before she parted, Garak held on to her arm and tilted a brow ridge in her direction.“Are you bringing anyone special tonight, Miss Dax?” 

Jadzia smiled and shook her head.“Only a cute dress.”

“What happened with the Romulan woman?”

Her smile waned, just for the slightest moment, before returning.“You know better than anyone how temperamental Romulans can be.”

Garak laughed lightly.“Temperamental, duplicitous, and spiteful—but who am I to judge?I’m sorry, Jadzia.You will land on your feet, you always do.You were—“

“A gymnast, after all.”Jadzia finished for him, and kissed him on the cheek again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I am very much not of Pakistani origin and thus any references to clothing, food, language, etc. (which will be more prominent in later chapters) are the product of internet research. If anything in this fic seems off, please let me know so I can correct it and represent the culture more accurately!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience. This was originally going to be a much longer chapter, but for the sake of getting an update out before the holidays, I decided to break it up. Hopefully since the next portion is significantly drafted already I can get my next chapter out sooner.
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> teacuptribbles


	7. Holidays, Part Three (Age Seven)

**Chapter Seven: Holidays, Part Three (Age Seven)**

 

The smell of the Sisko residence greeted them at the turbolift.It was exotic, but not too far from the scent of Cardassian food.When the three of them reached the door, Zhaya’s stomach started to rumble in anticipation. 

The door was opened by a black human woman with a sweet smile and a toddler in her arms. 

“Julian!It is lovely to see you.” 

She hugged him with her free arm, and as they pulled away he bent down to look at the small child.“Hi Josephine, I haven’t met you yet.My name is Julian.”The girl buried herself in her mother’s neck in response. 

A booming voice came from the kitchen.“Don’t take it personally, Doctor Bashir.She’s shy.”

“A shy Sisko?Didn’t think it was possible,” Julian called back as the woman led them into the living room.

When Josephine adjusted her head, she saw Garak and Zhaya.Her eyes widened and she kept them still, too fearful to blink.

Her mother Kasidy noticed and gave Josephine a reassuring pat. 

“Not many Cardassians on the station,” Garak offered.

Kasidy only nodded in response.It was becoming familiar to Zhaya, this frostiness between certain people and _Yad’,_ this suspicion and resentment.She climbed off the couch to investigate the activity in the kitchen.

At the center of the loud chatter and sizzling was a tall black man with a shaved head and tightly groomed beard.He had a towel thrown over his shoulder and sweat forming on his brow.The kitchen smelled impossibly good. 

He clinked glasses with Julian.“I can’t say I miss all the backtalk but, when you get sick of that desert wasteland, you’re always welcome back.”

Jadzia had arrived earlier in the evening, and she was the first to see Zhaya standing in the doorway.She gave the man an admonishing nudge with her elbow.“Zhaya!Would you like something to drink?Hot cocoa maybe?Julian, tend to your child?”

The man’s face melted when he saw Zhaya.He walked over and lowered his hulking frame to meet her.“Hello Zhaya, _Kiba’avzayn._ I’m Benjamin.I used to boss your dad around.”He smiled a handsome, bright white smile.“You probably don’t eat a lot of Terran food, do you?”

She shook her head.He pulled a spoon from a drawer and scooped up some rice. 

“Cajun food is the _best_ Terran food.This is called jambalaya.”He handed the spoon to her.She tried a small bite at first, then ate every grain.

Benjamin clapped happily.“Excellent!That’s the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He waved his hands back and forth.“Only your dad has to call me Captain.”

Julian gave her a glass filled with some sparkling liquid.“Don’t listen to him, love.He’s not the boss of me anymore.”

She took a sip of the sparkling liquid, which tingled sweetly on her tongue.Apple cider.

Jadzia and Benjamin carried the steaming pots and pans to the table.Kasidy, obviously relieved to not be in a room alone with Garak anymore, hopped to her feet.“Have you heard from Jake?”

“He’s running a bit late,” Benjamin answered, “but I’m sure he’ll arrive just in time to eat.”

 As Benjamin was introducing the dishes—jambalaya, gumbo, pecan pie—in walked a lanky young man with dreadlocks and a growing mustache.Benjamin gave him the same luminous smile he had given Zhaya earlier.

Julian laughed.“There’s a college kid if I’ve ever seen one.”

Jake raised his middle finger in Julian’s direction, which Benjamin pulled down when he went to give Jake a hug.“Is that how I taught you to treat guests?”

“I think the…dreadlocks, is that right?…are charming,” Garak said as Kasidy handed Jake’s sister to him.

He smiled in Garak's direction.  He had Benjamin's smile.  “Thank you, Ambassador.”

While Jake was significantly older than Zhaya, he was still Captain Sisko’s son in the eyes of the adults present, meaning he, Josephine, and Zhaya occupied a smaller table together.“The kid’s table,” Julian teased.

That was fine by Zhaya.She found it easier to socialize with those older than herself.Children her age were tiresome.Jake, however, seemed worldly and effortlessly cool.

When she learned he was in school for writing, she could hardly believe it.While her fathers had always told her she could become whatever she wanted to, she never imagined actually being a writer, or anything beyond a housekeeper. 

After dinner came the exchange of cookies and alcohol and the first but certainly not last impromptu Shakespearean performance between Julian, Garak, and Benjamin Zhaya would see.

Jadzia shook her head as she leaned into Kasidy.“What is it about Shakespeare?”

Kasidy giggled and shrugged.

“Zhaya.”

She turned in the direction of the whisper to see Jake sitting in the back of the room.When she came over he handed her something that looked like a padd.

“Your dads sent me some of your stories.You’re a talented writer.”

She smiled, feeling grateful and embarrassed at the same time.

“This is called a notebook.The pages used to be made from trees on Earth before that became illegal.  They have tried to replicate them, but they never turn out quite right.  The replicated ones fall apart.There are still some genuine notebooks on Terra, but they are rare.I think a notebook and pen is the best way to write, though, and I think you deserve it.”

When she reached for the notebook, Jake lifted it slightly above her head.“Take good care of it, okay?It’s very special.”

Zhaya was embarrassingly old when she learned that replicated notebooks were, in fact, commonplace and likely the one Jake had given her was replicated.Her initial anger at Jake subsided when she remembered how much she loved writing in that notebook, and how special and chosen she had felt.  She was not sure she would have pursued writing seriously if not for that nudge forward. 

She got him back when she gave him a notebook as a wedding gift.  The attached note read "To my favorite storyteller." 

 

***

 

“Julian, dear, why are you doing this to yourself?”

Julian was pacing around their quarters while Zhaya looked through her bag for an outfit.Julian had told her to wear something nice for their last day on the station.She wasn’t sure why, and apparently Garak wasn’t either.

“I have to.It’s been almost a year.”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” Garak responded, firm but patient.

“I thought you would be more understanding.Familial duty and all that.”Julian did not let up his pacing.

“And look where that left me.”The patience in Garak’s tone was giving way to irritation.

“Zhaya, please go change out of your pajamas.”

“Only if you want to,”Garak added quickly, earning a steely glance from Julian.

She sat on the floor for a moment, briefly immobilized by the differing opinions of her fathers.She opted to change, if only to relieve Da’s stress.

When she returned her parents were in an embrace.Though Julian was taller, he appeared small in Garak’s arms.Garak was kissing his neck.She couldn’t say for sure, but it looked like Julian had been crying. 

When they started to untwine, she hid around the corner.Only when they were fully apart did Zhaya walk in. 

Julian sniffed.“Thank you, love.Have I told you what we’re doing?”

“No.” 

He squared his shoulders and straightened out his shirt.“We’re going to call my parents—your grandparents.They live in England, and the subspace communication on Cardassia doesn’t reach that far yet.”

Zhaya was shocked.She had always assumed that, like _Yad’,_ Da had no living family.Why else would a Terran move to and start a family on Cardassia? 

He read the look on her face.“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.It’s just that…there’s no easy way to reach them, and we’re not close.”

She looked to Garak.He gave her a sympathetic smile.“Humans are different than us, _mitka._ They often move far from home when they are grown.It’s perfectly normal for your grandparents to not be involved in your life.I’m sorry this is being sprung on you so suddenly.”

Annoyance flashed in Julian’s eyes briefly.He exhaled.“Yes, I should have given you more time to get used to the idea, but this is our last chance to see them for a long while.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”What else could she say?

Her fathers stood rigid with nerves while the connection established.When it came through, she saw two older, excited humans looking at them.Humans who looked like Da.Her grandparents. 

“Jules!,” the woman exclaimed before holding back her smile.“I’m sorry, Julian.It is so good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Mum.Da.”Julian’s voice was high and tight.Zhaya didn’t like it.

A beat passed with no words. 

Garak stepped forward.“Amsha, Richard.”He gave a slight bow.“You two look lovely, as always.”

“We have only met twice before.Not often enough to catch us at our less presentable moments.”Richard returned Garak’s courteous nod, but there was something undeniably _off_ , something distant in his voice.

Amsha’s eyes fell on Zhaya, who had been gravitating closer and closer to Garak. 

“Who is this pretty little girl?,” she asked, leaning in closer to the screen.

Again a silent pause.Panic stirred in Zhaya’s chest.“ _Sat sri akaal*,”_ she said, her voice shaking.She hoped it was not too obvious.

Amsha’s face lit up.“Oh delightful!You know Punjabi.”And then, just as quickly as her face had brightened, it fell.“You know Punjabi…” 

Their eyes turned on Julian, who kept tugging at the bottom of his shirt.He reached for Zhaya’s hand.His palm was sweaty.

“Mum, Da.You know my work on Cardassia has kept me very busy.I’m—we’re—calling from DS9 currently, which is my first trip off world since I went to Cardassia.A lot has happened in two years—the people there are still very sick, the radiation still causes several problems, but the planet is rebuilding.A new government has been established—“

Garak placed his hand on the small of Julian’s back, a gesture that was missed by no one.

“Aand,” Julian stuttered, “personally, I’ve been through changes as well.Big changes.Mr. Garak…Elim.”Julian looked at Garak, and when their eyes met Garak smiled.Julian turned back to look at the screen.“Elim and I are together.I don’t think that’s surprising to either of you, but we are essentially married, we just haven’t done the paperwork, with the government being so young, and all.”Julian attempted to laugh, but it came out more like a cough.“And this is Zhaya Onak Bashir…our daughter.”

Julian squeezed her hand.

Richard and Amsha stared into the screen, mouths agape.It was clear they were holding hands below the screen.

Richard was the first to speak.“Julian…I don’t know what to say.I...I’m happy for you, of course.But to just suddenly find out I have a son-in-law, and a grandchild, it’s so much to take in at once.”

“A Cardassian family,” Amsha added before quickly covering her mouth, “Not that I don’t approve.Cardassia is just so far away.Look at all we’ve missed in two years.Julian, we have to see you all.In person.Please.”

There was so much pain in her voice it made Zhaya wince.She very badly wanted this to be over, whatever this was. 

Julian sighed.“Soon, Mum.When we can.But—“

“I have recently been promoted to Ambassador to the Federation,” Garak said with a disarming smile, “which will no doubt entail several trips to Terra.I’m certain Zhaya and I will have an opportunity.”

Their faces relaxed.The grand smile Amsha had at the beginning of the call returned.“That would be wonderful.I cannot wait to actually meet you, Garak.”

“Elim, please.I insist.”

“Elim.And how can we send something to Zhaya?”

As the adults discussed the byzantine nature of shipping something to Cardassia, Zhaya focused on the heat of her hand in Da’s palm, the lines around Richard’s and Amsha’s eyes, the way _Yad’_ could breathe so quietly, especially when he was nervous.

When their goodbyes were exchanged and the connection disabled, Julian breathed out like he hadn’t been breathing the whole time.He let go of Zhaya’s hand.

Garak rubbed his back.“Are you alright, dear?”

Julian rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.“I will be.Stiff upper lip, y’know.”

Garak made an unconvinced noise, and they all made the necessary motions for bed.

The first time Zhaya met her grandparents was in the following year, on an ambassadorial trip to Paris. _Yad’_ had made an arrangement with her school that allowed her to do extra homework in place of attendance.Still too young and unfamiliar with Terra to bemoan missing out on a stroll down the _Champs-Élysées,_ she was content to eat a chocolate croissant while working on her Federation maths. 

It was at that table in a quaint cafe where she saw Richard and Amsha Bashir in person, all elegance and style.They were delighted at the sight of her, and spoke to her in an excited Punjabi that moved too quickly for her to catch.They watched her for a few hours while Garak attended an apparently tense meeting regarding a trade agreement between the Federation, Bajor, and Cardassia.

In that time they took her shopping in stores that looked as though they had been around for hundreds of years, their stone walls bleached and chipped but never rundown.Instead, the buildings had aged gracefully.She felt high class, a Dukat or Damar instead of an Onak.

She was a Bashir now, the meaning of which was slippery in her ever changing world, but it was already lightyears beyond her wildest dreams. 

When she and Garak arrived home and Julian saw her suitcase packed with little black dresses and pearls, he asked Garak what the _hell_ he had been thinking, _you left her alone with them, you don’t really know them, look at all of this, it must be the guilt, do they think this will work?_

Zhaya was angry at Julian for his reaction.In fact, it was the first time she remembered being disappointed in him.Richard and Amsha had been so kind, so generous.They appeared to love her very much already.Certainly Da had judged them too harshly.

She continued to feel this way until she was fourteen, when she overheard Julian drunkenly refer to himself as an “augment” to _Yad’_ and Kelas.When she asked Garak about this later in the week, he suggested that she ask Da. _If you ask him, he will tell you._ As in, he is not me.

Julian did tell her.When he was six, his parents put him through an illegal genetic engineering procedure in an attempt to cure his autism.Though they had always claimed it was for his benefit, he believed they were embarrassed of his “abnormal” development, the way he hadn’t measured up to what they were expecting.Who was to say, he said, that he wouldn’t have been successful or happy the way he was, without turning him into living, breathing contraband? 

He embraced her. _I love you.No matter what you do or don’t do.If you ever feel I’m involving myself too much, just tell me to back off._

Zhaya held him, her arms tight around his back. _I will, Da.I promise I will._

She still loved _Bibi_ and _Bhapa*,_ and was devastated when Richard died of cancer and she was unable to make the trip to Terra in time for his funeral.She notified her professors she needed a week off, and spent that week crying.

But she didn’t question when she came home from her dorm to find Julian was gone.  He went to work, Garak said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Punjabi for "Hello."
> 
> *Punjabi terms for grandma and grandpa.
> 
> These are based on Internet research so if anything is off, please let me know :)


	8. Politics (Age Twelve)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Use of homophobic slur and preteen angst ahead.
> 
> Timeline is roughly compliant with Una McCormack's DS9 novel The Fall: The Crimson Shadow.

** Chapter Eight: Politics (Age Twelve) **

 

Zhaya was twelve when she noticed a change in Garak.

His long days grew even longer, and he seemed to drag himself through the front door.He couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to read his cherished books, and at one point fell asleep, head in palm, at the dining room table while helping Zhaya with Kardasi literary terms.If Julian had to respond to an emergency on these nights, she had to go with him like she did when she was little, or go to Kelas’ (despite her insistence that she was well old enough to be alone).

Her Cardassian classmates, who had become more numerous at the HARF school in recent years, were even stiffer around her.They were preternaturally concerned with pleasing her, or at least not offending her.She knew in some abstract way that her father was famous—notorious was probably the better word.As Cardassia’s ambassador to the Federation he carried a certain amount of recognition, but even she knew that didn’t explain the cloud of whispers that followed him.Her parents worked to keep her away from the details, and she had a sneaking suspicion she would not want to know them.

One night she awoke to the sound of muffled shouting through her wall.She crept out of bed and tiptoed to her parents’ bedroom door.

Julian and Garak argued often, as Cardassian couples were wont and expected to do.The argument was how lovers displayed their intellect and rhetorical skills to one anotherThis was different.Their voices were sharp, loud, unbridled, naked. 

Zhaya knew this moment was not meant for her, but that made her want to listen all the more.

“ _Elim, we’re your family!”_ Julian was almost shrieking.She did not know he was capable of such fury. 

“Exactly!My dear, don’t you _see?_ I have lived with a target on my back my entire life.I will not subject you and Zhaya to that.”Something in Garak’s voice nearly brought tears to her eyes.It sounded so strained, so pleading.

“What are we supposed to do, then?Stay locked away in the house during the entire election season?And if you win?”

A heavy, dreadful pause.

“Unbelievable!You can’t be bloody serious!”

“I am being _pragmatic._ My primary concern—“

“Is getting elected, to make a martyr of yourself.And you can’t do that if the whole planet knows you have a human husband and a mixed species daughter.”

Zhaya had little grasp of what they were yelling about, but she understood that sentence with piercing clarity.Her heart fell to her gut.

_“Julian…how dare you.”_

The rest of the argument fell into frenzied attempts to talk over one another.She heard thumping, a closet door sliding open in a rush.Footsteps toward the door.She scrambled back to her room but left her door just the slightest bit ajar.

Through the crack she could make out the shadowed, willowy figure of Julian as he carried a pillow and blanket to the living room.

“Jul—Julian!Where are you going?What are you doing?”The smallness remained in Garak’s voice.

“Elim, listen to me,” Julian’s voice was firm, but yielding ever so slightly, “I will still be here tomorrow.We will be okay.But I can’t be around you right now.Do you understand that?” 

In the darkness she saw Garak nod, and her parents turn away from one another.

***

Election week had been considered a holiday since the first democratic election of Castellan Alon Ghemor five years prior.While the reactionary Cardassia First movement had been an ever-present and loud force, most Cardassians reveled in their free elections, and Election Day parties were boisterous.

The Election Day of Zhaya’s twelfth year was as far from a holiday as one could get.

The evening following her fathers’ fight, they asked her to come into the garden with them.They shared a plate of fruit with her and pursued the usual questions: how was your day, how did your social studies exam go, how much homework do you have tonight.

And _Yad’_ is running for castellan. 

The resignation of Castellan Rakena Garan had been in play for some time.Zhaya remembered watching the casts a few weeks ago when news of Federation President Bacco’s assassination came in.She stopped mid chew to watch the story, and Julian went to make himself tea, his hands shaking violently.

Because, for Cardassians, there was no question as to who had killed Bacco.The True Way, the group composed of old elite families who wanted the Federation out of Cardassia, had been threatening to undertake “dramatic action” for a long time. 

Because Bacco’s assassination meant that Garan was not safe, which meant that Garak was not safe.

And now _Yad’_ was placing himself even more in the line of fire.

Zhaya looked to her fathers to decide how she should feel, but their faces were masks.

Their Election Day was quiet and tense, with she, Julian, and Kelas huddled around the casts while Garak paced back and forth in another room, answering and making calls endlessly.She held Mr. Darcy close to her chest, her nose buried in his fur.

“Elim,” Kelas called out, “it’s the last round of counts.You might want to be in here for this.”

When Garak entered the room, Kelas walked him over to the group.“It’s close, but looking good for you.But I’m sure you know that already.”

“Yes, there have been many premature congratulations.”

Garak sat between Julian and Zhaya.He placed his hand on Julian’s shoulder, and Julian reached to hold it.

The news anchors announced it was going to be called. 

Elim Garak was the new castellan of the Cardassian Union.

Kelas clapped and hooted, while Garak seemed to freeze in place.Julian kissed him on the cheek.“Congratulations, and be careful.”

That seemed to bring Garak back.He put on his usual disarming smile.“My dear, I’m always careful.”

Zhaya hardly saw Garak in the following week.This was not entirely unusual, as Garak’s previous position as ambassador often meant days or weeks off world.What was unusual was that Garak was not available at all.During his off world trips he still called and had long chats with his family.Now he awoke and bustled around the house,speaking to someone on his padd the entire time, before leaving for a twelve to sixteen hour day.

“Are you taking me to school tomorrow?,” Zhaya called out to him on the last morning of the holiday. 

“I’m sorry _mitka_ , I can’t.Kelas will pick you up in the morning.”Garak threw his bag over his shoulder and walked to the front door.

On his way, he caught Zhaya’s glance, and his face softened as it often did in these moments.He smiled remorsefully and went to her.“It won’t always be like this.I promise,” he said, and kissed her on the _chufa._  

The atmosphere upon returning to school was tense.Zhaya’s instructors gave her tight, polite smiles.Her peers gave her more sideways glances than usual.

Zhaya’s only companion at school was a Klingon named Keh’lar whose Starfleet mother had been assigned to HARF.They got along because they were both deathly serious about their studies and did not care about the inner workings of middle school hierarchy.

They sat in silence at their usual lunch table, despite Zhaya’s efforts to inquire about Keh’lar’s holiday.Eventually she gave up, contributing Keh’lar’s silence to typical Klingon reticence on all matters non-glorious. 

“Your father won the castellanship.”

Zhaya looked up from her plate to see her friend staring at her severely.

“He was in the Obsidian Order,” Keh’lar added.

Zhaya kept her eyes on her food.“I don’t know.He doesn’t talk about the past.”

“No,” Keh’lar said, “he wouldn’t.”

“Like I said,” Zhaya could feel her anger building, “I don’t know.It could just be a rumor.”

“A rumor everyone believes.”

Zhaya was at the prime age to be acquainted with rumors.She knew that rumors had a habit of mutating into outlandish things.She had heard some tall tales about her father, but one phrase, the Obsidian Order, was in all of them.

She wasn’t going to tell Keh’lar that.“Why do you want to talk about this?”

Sympathy flashed through Keh’lar’s dark reddish eyes.“Working in the shadows, keeping secrets…it’s all dishonorable.And I cannot—“

“Associate with someone from a dishonored House.”

“Yes.I’m sorry, Zhaya.”

Wordlessly, Zhaya stood up and took her tray.She threw it in the replicator with such force that she was chided by the cafeteria monitor.She ignored the monitor’s calls to come speak with her, and kept walking.

The last few hours of school dripped by painfully slowly.When finally the numbers turned 1530, Zhaya left the building only to find a young Cardassian man in all black waiting for her next to an all black skimmer.

“I take it my fathers are working.”

The man nodded.“I’ve been assigned to take you home.”

“I’ve walked home before.”

The man shook his head.“We’re going to the Capitol House.”

“The Capitol House?But we haven’t finished packing our house yet.”

“I’m sorry Miss Bashir, those are my orders.”

“Skrall, stop.Your sister and I have been in the same grade for years.Please just let me go.”

Skrall only opened the back door of the skimmer in response.Too tired to argue anymore today, Zhaya climbed in and stared out the window until they reached the newer, sturdier house that had recently become hers.It had none of the old house’s warmth, and she hated it.She knew her fathers did too.

As the skimmer grew closer, Zhaya could make out a plethora of graffiti donning the front wall.It was the only time in her life her multilingual ability was a disadvantage.She could understand every word.There was _murderer_ in Federation Standard, _traitor_ in high Kardasi, _oppressor_ in Bajoran, and the Kardasi slang equivalent of _faggot_. 

“ _Kek!_ ,” Skrall shouted, and pulled out his padd as soon as the skimmer was parked.

Zhaya threw open the skimmer door and ran, ignoring Skrall’s cries to come back until he had checked the house.She scanned her palm on the front door and entered into a living room lined with honest to State carpet.She hated this house, hated that it was newer and larger and stuck out in the neighborhood, hated that it didn’t smell like the old house with its mud and cement brick walls and instead was smooth plasticrete.

She lied down on the carpet.She heard the jingling of a collar and knew someone must have brought Mr. Darcy by earlier in the day.He joined her, curling his back against hers.For hours she was somewhere between daydream and sleep.

“Zha?Are you feeling alright?”It was Da’s voice.His scrubs rustled as he lowered himself next to her.

“Fine,” she mumbled, keeping her head turned away from him.

“You don’t look fine.Was it the graffiti?”

It was so much more than the graffiti.

Zhaya debated telling him for a while.She wanted his comfort and advice, but she also wanted to figure it out herself, and more than anything she wanted to be left alone.

Julian touched her shoulder in that paternal gentle yet solid way, and she felt like she had to say something.“Keh’lar doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Oh,” his voice was sad, and she wasn’t sure why.His only friend hadn’t just dumped him.“Did she say why?”

“ _Yad’_.”She pushed her face further into the floor.

There was a pause, and Zhaya didn’t like it.It meant that Da wasn’t sure how to comfort her, and she needed him to be sure.

“Zhaya,” he began carefully, “I know you’re hurting, but I promise one day you will understand.What can I do now to help you feel better?”

“Get _Yad’_ to quit.”

“Oh, _makhna.”*_

Julian only used Punjabi when there was nothing else to say, and that was enough to convince her there was no good reason to get off the floor.He tried to entice her with juice and sugared _jumja_ to no avail.She stayed there until Da sighed and retreated to his office.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *makhna: A Punjabi term of endearment (as always, native speakers, please correct me if untrue!)


	9. Siblings (Age Thirteen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, had some unexpected things come up. Thank you for your patience.

**Chapter Nine: Siblings (Age Thirteen)**

 

When Julian and Garak adopted another girl, Zhaya took it as a personal slight.

It happened when Julian called his mother on her birthday (“I suppose I owe her that”), and she told him about the never-ending struggles of his cousin Aisha.She was in a treatment center for her opioid addiction, and her boyfriend was still in a correctional facility for aggravated assault, and their daughter Naseem had to live at Julian’s aunt’s house, with his mother watching her when his aunt felt too ill.As a result Naseem’s grades had slipped, she wasn’t eating that much, and could Julian take her on Cardassia for a while to straighten her out?Maybe it would make her appreciate life on Earth.Maybe all the sun and hard work would be good for her character. 

And that was that.Julian would later say he knew Naseem was never going back to Earth, and apparently Garak bemoaned all that night about Julian’s habits of picking up strays, as though he had not spent a lifetime doing the same thing.

Zhaya knew that, being five years older than Naseem, her instinct should have been to protect her and cherish her.Instead, she wanted to take her and throw her into the nearest ditch.

Because Naseem was _cute_.When Zhaya and Julian went to pick her up at the spaceport, Naseem bounced down the ramp.There was no trepidation, no fear.Instead, she ran up to Julian, whom she had only met over the videocomm before, and asked for ice cream.She was slight and delicate, with the same brown-pink skin and downy dark body hair as Da.She had a wild mass of curly black hair, and the biggest brown eyes Zhaya had ever seen. 

And Zhaya was all too aware of the differences between herself and her new baby sister. At thirteen, Zhaya was beginning to develop Cardassian sexual characteristics.Her legs were lengthening, her neck and chest broadening.She was outgrowing clothes faster than Garak could tailor them, and replicated clothes were too snug on her muscular frame.*She felt awkward all the time, and preferred to wear dark colors and baggy fits.Naseem, however, was still small and confident.Garak created an array of brightly colored dresses for her, and she would twirl in them saying _It’s soooo pretty_ to Garak’s delight.Zhaya hated her for finding her way into this passion of _Yad’s._

Naseem also had a habit of crying fat, wet tears whenever she was upset or even mildly inconvenienced, causing their parents to fret over her endlessly that first month.Zhaya hated her neediness and dependence and as a result spent a lot of time finding new ways to lock her into or out of something.

When Garak found Naseem in the crawlspace, he became visibly distraught and told Zhaya she would be grounded when Julian came home (he never could ground her on his own). When he closed his office door a little too hard, Zhaya followed him and placed her tympanum to the door.

_"Zhaya still hates her.   Nothing seems to be getting through to her.I just pulled Naseem from the crawlspace under the stairs.Last week it was a duffel bag!”_

_Kelas laughed a while before realizing that Garak wasn’t laughing with him.“And…?”_

_“And?!Kelas, our house is a disaster!”_

_"Elim, I had four older siblings, as you know.I promise you this is part of the experience.”_

_"Zhaya seems determined to get rid of her.”_

_“My two older brothers used me as target practice all the time.I still have scars from the rocks.”_

_“It’s just so…cruel.”_

_“Children are cruel, Elim, especially Cardassian ones.Did you and Julian ever talk to Zhaya about adopting Naseem?She’s not the center of your world anymore, and she knows it.She has to share you, and that’s hard.”_

_Garak went quiet.“She_ is _the center of my world.”_

_"Does she know that?”_

The footsteps came to the door quicker than anticipated, and she stumbled as she attempted to dart away.

Garak found her on the floor.“Were you eavesdropping?”

There was no point in lying.“Yes.I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and joined her on the floor.She was surprised when his arms wrapped around her.“We are so alike.I’m the one who should apologize.”

That took her aback.“…I don’t understand.”

He didn’t elaborate.He only held her tighter, and ran his hand along the back of her head. 

“It’s not fair.”

She was surprised to hear herself say it.So many more words were caught in her throat, fighting to be freed: _I’m so scared of losing you I’m so scared what did you do what did you do_

“What’s not fair, _mitka_?”

“Everything!,” she nearly shouted.“I’m so alone.You’re gone all the time, and Naseem looks like Da, and sometimes they say words I don’t understand and still don’t understand when they explain them to me, and—“She was blubbering now.Embarrassed, she attempted to pull away, but Garak kept his arms strong around her.

They were quiet for a while, the only sound their soft, tense breathing.

“I’m sorry this transition has been so hard on you,” Garak began, “The castellanship is difficult, but I hope one day you will—“

“Take me with you, like you did when you were ambassador.My teachers know I’ll do my work remotely.”

Garak shook his head.“It’s too dangerous.”

“You always tell us it’s perfectly safe! _Yad’, please._ I’ll stay in my quarters wherever we go, you won’t have to think about me at all.I’ll learn so much more from traveling the planet than I will staying in this house.Haven’t you always wanted to give me the best education possible?” 

She felt him sigh against her hair.“ _Kek_ , you are so much like me.”A smile now.“We will have to work on some conditions.For one, this needs to stop with your sister.I know it was a sudden change, but Naseem has had a hard life, and she could really use a friend.”

The remorse hit her at once.She had been horrible.  It was true: jealousy was an ugly thing.  

She found Naseem furiously coloring in the kitchen, turning a green crayon into a pulpy nub. 

“Can I color with you?”

“No!You’re mean!,” Naseem shouted in the righteous indignation only children could produce.

_I deserve that._ “I know, I’ve been really mean to you.I’m sorry.I was mad about other stuff in my life, and I took it out on you.It won’t happen anymore.” 

Zhaya searched Naseem’s face for signs of comprehension.She had only a tenuous grasp on the minds of human children. 

Without moving her eyes from her project, Naseem passed Zhaya a piece of paper and a handful of crayons. 

She sat stumped for a while, unsure of what she wanted to create.Writing had always been her creative outlet, though it could often feel like plodding, meticulous work.Drawing seemed unruly in comparison. 

After watching Naseem exchange one color for another without hesitation, she decided to try to do the same.Though after a few minutes she had to admit her geometric scribblings lacked the pop of Naseem’s flowering field.

“Do you miss Earth?,” Zhaya asked, wondering if her sister would ever speak to her again.

Naseem quickly shook her head.“Cardassia is better.”

Well, that was something she had never heard a human say before.“Really?”

“Everyone talks about how great Earth is, how we should all be happy because we have food and water and houses and many societies don’t.But not everyone is happy, and if you’re not happy it feels like you have to keep it a secret.”

Naseem understood more than Zhaya had given her credit for.Far more.Her shame over her treatment of her deepened.“I’m so sorry.” 

For the first time since Zhaya joined her at the table, Naseem looked her in the eyes.She had immense eyes like Da, round and dancing and full of life.“Sorry for what?” 

“For being a bad sister.”

“Oh.”Naseem shrugged, and passed her more crayons from the box.“It’s okay.”

Humans and their flexibility.  Zhaya smiled, and went back to doodling.  Soon she found herself writing out lines from her favorite native poems.

"What are those?," Naseem pointed to the words on the page.

"Kardasi letters."

"Can you teach me some Kardasi?"

Zhaya stopped writing.  "I can try.  There are some sounds in Kardasi humans can't make."

"That's okay.  Your Standard sounds funny, but I still understand you."

There was no arguing with that.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *My head canon on Cardassian physiology: 
> 
> In DS9 Cardassians seem to be reptilian coded, compared to TNG’s more mammalian Cardassians. I love the idea of Cardassians as reptilian humanoids personally, because I’m a reptile nerd (which will become apparent below), but the canon writing doesn’t provide a lot to support this. Here are my ideas to fill in the gaps:
> 
> Since other humanoids can carry Cardassian infants to term, I view Cardassians as viviparous rather than egg-laying. Several reptile species give birth to live young, including many skinks. I think skinks have a very Cardassian look anyway, with brow ridges and smooth scales. 
> 
> While they give birth to live young, Cardassians do not need to nurse them. Milk is a distinctly mammalian thing, and baby Cardassians are born more prepared for the world than mammalian infants. Like many large reptiles, I imagine Cardassians as long-lived, but reaching sexual maturity before their mammalian counterparts (they spend a lot of their lives in middle age). Also like reptiles, their sexual maturity is determined more by their physical size than their age--the taller the Cardassian, the more likely they were to have been precocious in their sexual maturity (which is why Gul Dukat, at six+ feet tall, thinks he’s so irresistible). 
> 
> Since females do not need to produce milk, their more prominent chests are due to muscularity. In some reptilian species, especially large snakes, females tend to be heavier and stronger than the males. I think this, again, would account for why lanky Dukat seems to be the height of good looks for a male Cardassian (and why Garak can’t help himself with lanky Julian), while Garak seems to have a more traditional—by Cardassian standards—feminine presentation.


End file.
